


Not Dead

by kierathefangirl



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: #NotDead, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, cute johnlock, it's explained, just read notes for trigger, possible trigger warning?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierathefangirl/pseuds/kierathefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock isn't dead. (Obviously.) Together, him and John bounce back and solve a case. Lestrade meets Mycroft while at 221B with Archie's baby sister, Abbey. John and Sherlock adopt Archie (explained in story). There's a little breakdown from both Sherlock and John (well, huge on John's part and FOR Sherlock, huge). Both times ends in fluff (AKA John taking care of Sherlock and vice versa).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pocket Dial (Sherlock's POV)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trampanya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trampanya/gifts).



> John is cutting here; I wasn't going to publish because of that but it's just the first little bit and then Sherlock helps him recover and it ends in fluff. Sherlock mentions withdrawal and near-suicide (AKA Lestrade saved him from committing suicide).
> 
> Lots of drama but Sherlock asks Lestrade where to get a ring to propose to John with, which is cute. :)
> 
> Listening to "One In A Million" by Miley Cyrus during this piece. Suggest you listen but you don't have to.
> 
> Comments are appreciated (Especially on John and his hallucinations/nightmares and stuff. And Sherlock's nightmare, too.)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John accidentally calls Sherlock and Sherlock actually picks up. Sherlock goes home (221B Baker Street, of course).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.
> 
> Trigger warning in about the last 4 paragraphs (John's been cutting and Sherlock finds him unconscious, carries him to bed).

It all began with a call. Innocent enough thing. Mycroft had been calling several times a day, it was nothing new.

But when I looked at the caller ID...John Watson? _Impossible, he thinks I’m dead. Ah, what hurt can it do?_

I answer and a rough voice says, “Sherlock?”

My heart breaks free of its chains and begins to pound in my chest. That voice, so familiar, but so different. Broken. I had no idea what it was doing to him.

I swallow. “John. How’re you doing?”

I asked out of social custom, despite knowing. “You already know. You can deduce it yourself.”

I sigh. “I can, but isn’t giving you a chance to say you’re fine the polite thing to do?”

John chuckles weakly. “You’re learning. Where’ve you been?”

“Dismantling Moriarty’s network. I just took down the final bit. I’m on my way home, 221B Baker Street.”

John sighs in relief. “God, I’ve missed you. It’s been way too long.”

“I’m sorry,” I return softly. “If I’d let you know sooner, I would’ve risked revealing myself as alive to the world. But we’re safe now.”

John swallows. “I love you, Sherlock.”

“I love you, too, John. I do. Whether I intended to fall for you or not.”

John chuckles. “’Kay. See you soon?”

“Yeah, I can’t really keep myself away any longer. I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too. Love you.”

I recognize the bye in it. “Love you more.  Be home soon.”

I hang up so he won’t have to, holding to my word and heading straight home. God knows I need rest; I haven’t slept in weeks due to my nightmares, which have been getting worse, and I _have_ missed John.

I head inside, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to stop screaming and then hug the life out of me.

She eyes me critically. “You haven’t slept or eaten in weeks, have you?”

I shake my head. “Too busy. And I had nightmares about losing John, and you, and Lestrade. Moriarty threatened all three of you. How are you?”

“I'm fine. Lestrade is so upset. John’s been cutting, I think. He keeps seeing you everywhere.”

“Oh no, that’s not good...I’ll see what I can do.”

She nods and I run up the stairs, listening to the rippling water. “John?”

No response. I frown, slipping inside the room and freezing in horror.

John is sitting in a tub full of blood, razor marks all over his wrists, unconscious.

I lift him gently out, drying him off and wrapping him in a blanket, tucking him into bed. I patch up his wrists best as I can and end up pacing the room, waiting not-so-patiently for him to wake up.

He finally starts to stir, and I turn. _Is he okay?_


	2. Real and Alive (John's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up in his bed. Fluff and Sherlock being worried over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but important.
> 
> John's POV.

Sherlock is pacing the room when I wake up in my bed with a bunch of bandaids over my wrists—over the cuts.

I remember passing out in the bloody tub, not my bed. And certainly not with a very real, very alive Sherlock radiating concern like a magnet.

Sherlock turns, at my side the instant I groan weakly. “John! Are you okay?”

I clasp his hand in mine. _He’s real. He’s alive. Sherlock’s alive!_

“H-how did you..?”

Sherlock closes his hand on mine. “Yeah, I’m not dead. But _you’re_ dying, and I’m gonna fix that.”

I can’t help but smile. “Three years, Sherlock. And you just show back up?”

Sherlock, for once, looks shy and uneasy. “I told you, I had to dismantle Moriarty’s network and I couldn’t blow the cover of being dead.”

I shake my head. “One word, that’s all I would’ve needed. I don’t get it.”

Sherlock sits down next to me, his hand sliding into mine and pain in his eyes even though he tries to hide it. “I understand how you feel, John, I do. I’ve been having nightmares for weeks on end, I can’t sleep. I’ve been slipping. I shouldn’t be feeling anything, or so Mycroft tells me, but it’s too late. I’ve already fallen, not that it feels like falling. I meant it when I said I love you.”

I close my hand on his, processing what he said. “I’ve had worse than nightmares. Full-on hallucinations. I can’t get a break. I love you.”

Sherlock wraps his arms around me, warm and real. “I know. And I’ve never fallen before you. Congrats.”

I chuckle. “Cool.”


	3. Scars (John's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John enters the room with Sherlock (clad only in boxers) is trying to apply a healing salve to his wounds. John helps him and makes him promise to explain what he means about losing John 'like everyone else'. John taking care of Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short piece. Shows the whip marks from Sherlock's various tortures while dismantling Moriarty's network (this is more based on the show, where Sherlock was beat up for why he came into the last branch's base).
> 
> Short-ish, but showcases John's concern. :)
> 
> Listening to "One In A Million" still.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

I peek in, freezing as I spot the scars criss-crossing his back, whip marks. _Jesus._

I slip in, tugging the healing salve from his hands and very gently applying it. “What the hell happened to you?”

Sherlock tenses and glances over his shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I shake my head. “Not to me. Clearly, you got whipped or something, but that’s all I know.”

He sighs, crossing his arms. “You’re right. I did...I got caught. Several times. I dislodged all the pieces of his network, but it was hard on me.”

My eyes widen. “What? Are you okay?”

“Look at me and come to that conclusion yourself, it’s not that hard.”

I tape the last bandage down, coming around to his front. There’s a heightened pain to it, a grimace gracing his face and pain making his eyes water. “Jesus, Sherlock, you didn’t have to do it alone.”

Sherlock scoffs. “Ha, no. I’d rather you be here, safe and upset, than out there with me. It’s too dangerous.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Afghanistan?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I’m not saying you’re not _capable_ , I said I would _rather_. I can’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else. Torture or not.”

I blink. _Now we’re getting somewhere_. “Lost...wait, what?”

Sherlock closes his eyes. “Not now.”

I frown. Maybe he means he’ll explain later? “Why—?”

“Please, John, not now.”

I bite my lip. “You better tell me later.”

Sherlock sighs, lowering his voice. “Promise.”


	4. Together Again (Sherlock's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV from the end of John's. Fluff and fluff and more fluff. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.
> 
> This one's longer than the previous two. John and Sherlock fall asleep, it's kinda cute.
> 
> Don't even have to say what song, hasn't changed. As always, comments are welcome!

“Promise.”

John wraps his arms around me. “I don’t like seeing you in pain like this.”

I wince, wrapping my arms around him and letting my body lead the movement, which is beyond logical but comforting nonetheless. “How do you think _I_ feel? I found you in the bathtub covered in blood, John.”

“Yeah, well...I’ve been falling apart. I need you here; I want you here. With me.”

I close my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not again. That was hard on both of us.”

John tightens his grip, careful fingers on my back. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you and I always will.” I get the words out and shake my head, my pounding heart slowing as my heart and mind recognize John’s presence.

John chuckles. “Coming from you, that’s a feat for sure.”

“Exactly the point,” I agree easily. “You’re the only person to get as close as you have. Not an easy feat.”

John looks up at me, a small smile on his face. “Good.”

His smile slips as a shyness grips him. “D’you...erm, do you mind if I sleep with you? You know, so I can remind myself that you’re still here?”

I consider it. _It would comfort both of us, and possibly hold the nightmares at bay._ “Why not?”

John’s eyes light up and he offers me a tiny, relieved smile. “Cause you’re Sherlock?”

I shrug. “And I love you. That cancels out that point.”

John grins, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. “Point taken.”

I reach out, putting a hand on him to still the movement. “Relax, John.”

John smiles sadly. “It’s just...every time I see you again, you disappear.”

I roll my eyes. “That wasn’t _me_ , John. That was your eyes playing tricks on you. I’m not going anywhere.”

John smiles shyly. “Acted just like you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s part of why it’s so hard. Hallucinations impair the brain in more ways than one. I’d know. Relax, I’m not going anywhere without you. Promise.”

John relaxes under my hand, swallowing. “Okay.”

I reach out, slipping the knot of the robe loose. John looks up, surprised. “You’re cool with this? Really?”

I shrug calmly, admitting in a low voice, “It’ll probably help both of us.”

His eyes widen. “But you’re...I don’t know, different.”

I scoff, reaching out to push the door shut. “I am, yes. I haven’t had the best experiences thus far, but meeting you was the best thing I’ve ever done. Yes, I’m cool with it.”

John lets the robe slide to the floor in a rumpled pile, his red plaid boxers the only thing left on. “Okay?”

I flip the blankets up, nodding invitingly. “Come on.”

John dives in, burying his face in the pillow. I can’t hold in a small chuckle as I slip in behind him.

“What?”

I drop the blankets over us, wrapping my arms around him and relaxing into the pillow. “You. You’re enthusiastic.”

John grins, raising his hand and resting it over mine. “Yeah. S’pose I am.”

His eyes drop closed and I tighten my grip, burying my face in the back of his neck. _This is home._

He relaxes as he drops to sleep, his hand shaking slightly on mine. I close my hand on his enough to squeeze, reminding him subconsciously that I’m still here. _I had no idea how bad this was on both of us. We need each other, and not just because we love each other. We keep each others’ addictions in check. John became suicidal and his limp, although less pronounced, returned. I delved back into drugs and alcohol. We do need each other. If there were such a think as soulmates, that’d be us._

I drop to sleep, warm and happy.


	5. Sherlock's Nightmare (John's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wakes John up having a nightmare. Sherlock is speaking what he was thinking on the rooftop in TRF (Reichenbach Fall). John and Sherlock talk about Sherlock's history a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV.
> 
> Fluff, pure fluff. Sherlock discusses withdrawal and being suicidal previously (saved by Lestrade and Molly) and John mentions his PTSD, I don't know if that's a trigger but it's possible?
> 
> Still listening to the same song. Let me know what you think, especially about Sherlock's history and how you think it fits.

Sherlock wakes me up mumbling in his sleep.

I roll over, frowning at him.

He looks terrified, his eyes would be wide if they were open. I can’t help but feel like this had to be his face when he was up on top of that building, just before the fall.

He murmurs my name, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade and shivers. “No, no, you can’t.”

I poke him, trying to wake him up. “Sherlock?”                  

He barely moves, a tear slipping down his face. “No, call them off. Please, don’t. You can’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever it takes, just let them live. Please. Don’t shoot.”

I push a little, squeezing his shoulder. “Sherlock?”

He chokes my name through an invisible film of tears and snaps awake with a gasp.

His eyes are wide and a little frenzied and he just starts crying, the tears blurring his eyes streaming down his face until they’re gone and dry.

Sherlock seems to slowly come to, and I finally see through his armor. _This is the Sherlock no one else sees. The bullied little kid who just wants appreciation, the wounded child who needs love. This is the person I want to know._

Sherlock finally wakes up the rest of the way, his head falling against me. An awkward, dry-throated voice croaks out, “Hey.”

I pull him closer, dropping my head against him. “You okay?”

Sherlock chuckles weakly. “Better.”

I swallow. “You were _crying_. Where is Sherlock and what have you done with him?”

Sherlock laughs, a genuine laugh. A light, easy laugh. “That’s what happens.”

I let my voice soften. “You said ‘don’t shoot.’ What were you talking about?”

Sherlock winces, tears filming his eyes. “Moriarty, he...he, um, _hired_ snipers. And they were told to kill you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade if I didn’t jump. I couldn’t...”

His voice cracks and he swallows. “I wasn’t prepared for just how far he was willing to go. He shot himself in the mouth. And then I was left with two choices: let the three of you die, or jump. So I contacted my brother to set the wheels in motion—we had thirteen possible scenarios, all with a code name. I did jump, I just...I had enough of a plan to not die. But there was always a chance something would go south—if I didn’t hit the airbag, if I popped the airbag—so Mycroft asked me a thousand times if I knew that and was willing to actually risk my life.”

“And you were, clearly,” I finish quietly.

Sherlock shrugs weakly. “I, um...there were a few years there I wouldn’t’ve planned, I just would’ve jumped. Like...you know. I had no friends, I hadn’t met Lestrade or Molly yet. Mycroft was no help. I pulled out of it because I met Lestrade and he set me back on track. Then I met Molly a year later, and she gave me access to the morgue so I could do my work there as well.”

I feel a pang shock my heart. “You were suicidal?”

Sherlock bites the inside of his cheek. “You could say that, yeah.”

I pull him close, snuggling against him. “Well, I’m damn lucky you didn’t jump. Because I probably would’ve jumped myself if not for you. PTSD is a bitch.”

Sherlock shivers a little. “I know. Withdrawal’s also a bitch.”

I close my eyes. “I love you.”

Sherlock hesitates, his voice cracking a little. “I love you, too.”

I kiss the tip of his nose, closing my hand on a fistful of hair and fitting myself up against him. “Thank you. For everything. For saving me, for coming back to me. For being in my life.”

“I could say the same,” Sherlock counters shakily, wrapping his arms tightly and warmly around me. “For different reasons, but the same thing.”

I close my eyes, drifting between sleep and awake for hours on end.


	6. Not Alone (Sherlock's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John wake up the next morning. John is still getting his head around the fact that Sherlock's there. Sherlock thinks to himself, "For an inexplicable reason, the fact that he’s still here after my breakdown last night is the most healing thing I’ve ever gone through." Fluff, and Sherlock being all adorably awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.

I wake up slowly, still curled up with John. For an inexplicable reason, the fact that he’s still here after my breakdown last night is the most healing thing I’ve ever gone through.

I don’t open my eyes, too tired and emotionally exhausted to want to go through that effort.

John yawns against me. I fidget a little, uneasy after last night.

John yawns again and swallows. “Morning.”

“Not yet.”

John chuckles. “Sleepyhead.”

I roll my eyes without opening them. “You would be in my place.”

John lowers his voice. “Are you okay?”

The tiny question is so hopeful and worried that I crack an eye open, answering honestly for once. “I think so.”

“You have the most adorable sleepy blue eyes first thing in the morning,” John chuckles, his hand finding mine.

I lace our fingers together, blinking awake. “Could say the same about you.”

John giggles. “Your hair’s all messy.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have enough hair for it to really mess up. It’s the unfortunate side effect to long hair.”

John grins. “Never said it was bad. Looks cute on you.”

I blink, tilting my head a little. “What?”

John’s grin widens. “It looks cute like that. I like it.”

I yawn, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. “Whatever.”

John hugs me tightly before releasing me and rolling to his feet, picking up his discarded robe and pulling it on.

I roll to my feet, tugging my robe on and rubbing my eyes, opening the door.

John and I slip out together, much closer together than usual. The tea is already out on the coffee table.

I pick mine up, sipping at it and settling down on the couch usually reserved for clients and my parents. It sinks down a little and I sigh, slowly waking up as I drink my tea.

John flops down next to me, leaning against me. “You’re more sleepy than usual.”

“I don’t _usually_ have nightmares that wake me up.”

“True,” John agrees. “So, um, snipers?”

I force my body to relax before answering. “Yes.”

John grins. “So you saved my life twice. Thanks.”

I smile sleepily at him. “Yeah, whatever.”

Mrs. Hudson pops upstairs. “Oh, hello Sherlock! Morning, John.”

“Just hello?” John frowns at her. “Did he tell you or something?”

“She screamed at me on the way in yesterday,” I answer for her. “And then squeezed the life out of me.”

Mrs. Hudson ruffles my hair. “Oh, son, you’re so dramatic. Did you sleep well?”

John and I exchange a quick glance and John shakes his head for me. “No, he didn’t.”

She frowns at him. “How do you know?”

John blushes scarlet. “He woke me up kinda...crying my name. And you and Lestrade.”

I duck my head, chewing on my lip. I manage to protest quietly, “ _John!_ ”

Mrs. Hudson’s eyes widen. “What for?”

I sigh, flicking my eyes up towards her. “Moriarty had snipers on the three of you. He said if I didn’t jump, they’d shoot. I had no choice, not really. Either I die—even if I don’t _really_ die, clearly—or you three all die. The few people I’d managed to get close to. So yeah, I jumped.”

Mrs. Hudson gasps. “Snipers?”

I wince. “Yes.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, darling, that’s just crazy! The _stress_ , the _people_!”

I shrug. “My life is crazy. Always has been.”

She disappears downstairs and I sigh, draining the last of my tea. John sets his empty cup down, wrapping his arms around me. “Thank you. I mean it.”

I close my eyes. “Always.”

He releases me and stands. “There’s one big thing we’ve gotta do.”

I look up. “What?”

John smiles. “While you’re still ruffled and drained—visibly—we need to go to Scotland Yard. Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan await. Ready?”

I sigh, rising to my feet. “Just let me get dressed.”

John slips into his room and comes out in his usual outfit. “Don’t take too long.”

I slip into my room, pulling on my clothes and wincing as the shirt drags across the bandages over my back. _Ow._

I stride back out, slipping my scarf on. “Alright.”

John offers his hand and I accept it, slipping my fingers through his.

We make our way downstairs together, closer than ever.


	7. Scotland Yard (Sherlock's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson being a prick. Sherlock flinching and John being defensive. Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson meet Sherlock again (so they know he's alive).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.
> 
> Lestrade gives Sherlock a fatherly hug, which is kinda cute. :D
> 
> (I plan on getting some Mystrade in soon, just wait, my fellow shippers. It's coming.)

I stride inside, ignoring the gasps and heading straight for Lestrade’s office. Impeccable timing—Anderson and Donovan are both in there. One trip is easier than three.

I quietly open the door, just in time to hear Lestrade say, “If Sherlock were here, he’d say the same thing.”

I pull John in, shutting the door without the intention to be quiet. “Tell them what?”

They all jump and Anderson and Donovan whirl around.

Lestrade nearly trips as he shoots to his feet. “Sherlock?”

I swallow, raising my gaze to his. “Tell them _what_ , Detective Inspector?”

Lestrade shakes his head. “That it’s obvious they’re having an affair.”

I make the quick needed calculations. “Of course it is. Even an average person could figure that out, let alone all the signs that are more subtle that are obvious to me.”

John coughs. “He means hi.”

I glance at him. “Oh, yeah. Hi, not dead, clearly. I can explain later if you care enough to ask.”

Lestrade’s wide eyes are full of both relief and shock.

_Some things never change...and that’s clear with Donovan and Anderson._ Anderson glares at me and Donovan greets me, “Hey, freak.”

I flinch, dropping my gaze. John immediately slips his fingers through mine in support. “Hey!”

Donovan raises an eyebrow. “Looks like _you two_ ’re having an affair. I did warn you to stay away from him, John. But you didn’t listen, eh? Who’s the psychopath now?”

John’s eyes narrow and he just smiles. A murderous smile. And it actually scares me a little. “You are. Stop calling him _freak_ , Donovan. And stop glaring at him, Anderson. Either be nice or leave both of us the hell alone.”

I blink in surprise, glancing at him. Donovan storms out and Anderson is quick to follow.

John releases my hand and Lestrade makes his way over. “So you’re alive?”

“Yes, Graham.”

“Greg,” he corrects.

I take a deep breath, correcting myself. “Greg.”

He smiles and throws his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I can’t help but think that he hugs me like my father hugged me before we became estranged. A fatherly hug.

I wrap my arms around him, dropping my head on his shoulder. I honestly don’t mind the show of affection, especially considering I did save his life.

He releases me after several minutes. “How did you...?”

I sigh. “I had a plan. Worked it out with my brother beforehand. Moriarty had snipers on Mrs. Hudson, John, and...you. He said if I didn’t jump, then they’d kill the three of you. So I did.”

“And you saved our lives. Wow.” Greg claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” I answer politely.

John glances at me. “Sherlock, can I have a moment alone with him?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I slip out and John closes the door, talking seriously to Greg.

I shake my head, leaning against the wall.

“Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” Anderson hisses, pushing me into the wall.

I stumble a little, sighing. “I’m not in the mood for this, I just saved three lives and nearly lost my sanity so I’d rather not lose it anyway. You lower the IQ of the whole street, do shut up.”

“You think you’re funny. I’ll get payback.”

He releases me and Donovan follows him out, speeding off in a fancy black car.


	8. Lestrade and Anderson (John's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tells Lestrade what Sherlock said about him saving him from being suicidal. Lots of stuff goes down; Sherlock solves a case involving Archie and his little sister, John and Sherlock talk some more. This one's much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV.
> 
> Lots of stuff going down and some fluff, too.

Sherlock obliges and I close the door behind him.

Lestrade raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s just...well, Sherlock kinda told me something last night and I figured you deserved to know, since it does involve you.”

He frowns. “What?”

I glance towards Sherlock. “He said there were a few years there, in his words, that he ‘wouldn’t’ve planned, just would’ve jumped’. You know, if you get my drift. Then he met you, and you set him back on the right path. And then a year later he met Molly and she directed him further back onto the right path. And she gave him access to the morgue, which helped him solve cases.”

Lestrade’s eyes widen. “He was suicidal?”

I shrug. “That’s what he told me, yes. Said if it weren’t for you, there’s a high chance he wouldn’t be alive now. I had no idea, turns out he really does have a sensitive side.”

Lestrade shakes his head. “That’s...wow.”

I smile softly. “You’re telling me. He was crying, like full-on crying. He said ‘don’t shoot’ and stuff like that, and he explained when he woke up that Moriarty had snipers on us—and that means he was seriously upset that we were in danger. He does have friends, turns out. He said Mrs. Hudson is more like the mother he never had and you’re like the father he could’ve had. Which tells me something happened there, something between his father and him and his mother. He’s finally lost his armor enough for me to see the _human_ underneath.”

Lestrade claps me on the shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, I had no idea.”

I shrug. “I had no idea before he told me. And he only did because there was no denying something was wrong when he woke up.”

He shakes his head. “Well, we’re lucky he did. I’ll keep it in mind.”

I smile at him and slip out, closing the door behind me.

Sherlock is cringing into the wall when I come out, eyes squeezed shut.

I reach out, squeezing his shoulder. “Sherlock?”

He shivers and glances towards the exit warily. “What?”

“What happened?”                                                                                          

He sighs, pushing off the wall. “Just Anderson.”

“It’s not _just_ anything. What happened?”

Sherlock sags in defeat. “He threatened me. He might not be brilliant, but he is stupid enough to actually come through on it. And then both him and Donovan left.”

I weave my fingers through his, nudging him. “Don’t worry about it. He won’t get the chance to hurt you.”

His hand closes on mine and he glances towards Lestrade. “What was so important?”

I smile faintly. “Just telling him that he’s the closest you have to a friend.”

Sherlock blushes scarlet. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I did. Deal with it. He realizes he’s important now. Come on.”

I lead the way out, flinching under the scrutiny of the many news crews. “Think Anderson had something to do with this, Sherlock?”

Sherlock shrugs. “Probably. Wouldn’t be surprised. Just a nuisance.”

I steel myself, refusing to drop his hand and glaring at them. “Go away!”

Several reporters rush forward at once, surrounding us.

“How’d you survive?”

“How’d you do it?”

“Why’d you jump?”

“Why are you here?”

Sherlock cringes a little, tightening his grip on my hand. “I can’t answer more than one thing at a time.”

Silence falls and he sighs. “I’m not going to say how I did it, that would ruin the point of surviving. I jumped because Moriarty had snipers on my friends and it was them or me. And I’m here because one of said friends is here: Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“John, do you know why he was gone?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Dismantling Moriarty’s extensive network, _obviously_.”

Sherlock shoots me a small, shy smile and I grin back.

There’s a moment’s silence before someone asks, “Why did you let the world believe you were dead?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “If I didn’t, it would ruin the point of jumping. I jumped so they wouldn’t kill my friends, not so I could reveal I was still alive and ruin the entire point. I had no choice but to stay dead, so to speak.”

I roll my eyes, sighing. “We do have a life, you know. Leave us alone. There’s a small chance of us coming to you when we’re ready to actually talk.”

There’s a silence before Sherlock sets his jaw, nodding. “He’s right. I’m exhausted and not in any mood to deal with you right now. Maybe I’ll be in a better mood later. Deal with it, even I have my limits. I’m only human, just like you. Out of my way.”

He sweeps forward and I quickly match his stride, keeping up barely.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Damn media. Come on, if we’re going to announce my return it’ll be by solving a case and you blogging about it. Same old way.”

He turns on his police radio, listening to a report about a kid who’d been kidnapped. His parents heard him screaming for ‘Blackbeard’, his dog, before he was dragged off by someone.

He nods, making his way to the crime scene and pulling me with him, straight inside as if there wasn’t any police tape. “Come on. There’s gotta be something big they’re missing.”

He turns on a black light and rolls his eyes. “There’s a trail. Come on.”

We follow it to the point it just vanishes. Sherlock taps the floor and lifts up a trapdoor. “Something big they’re missing, right here. Idiots. Come on.”

Sherlock calls one of the officers over. “We’re going down, there’s a trail only a black light can pick up. Clearly there’s always something huge the police miss. Come along, John.”

I follow him down, giggling a little. “You just insulted the police force.”

“Other than D.I. Lestrade, they’re all incompetent. See?”

He taps the wall. “Fresh. Just sealed. Let’s see what’s back here, shall we?”

Together we kick it in and Sherlock grins. “Secret passages, my favorite. Let’s go.”

We slip inside, following the path until it ends in a large room.

In it, a young boy. A cat is circling him, hissing and keeping a tall man with a knife at bay.

I feel my eyes widen and my pulse begin to race. Sherlock takes a deep breath and slips out, pulling a gun and pointing it at the tall man. “Leave him alone.”

I pull my own gun, dropping Sherlock’s hand. “Get away from him.”

He looks up, aiming a gun at the boy. “Shoot and we both die.”

The boy cringes. I re-aim, hitting his hand and forcing him to drop the gun. “Ow!”

The boy jumps and I move forward, pulling the gun away with my foot and sliding it across the room from him.

Sherlock shoots his foot and he hops to the wall, leaning in the corner.

I pull my spare handcuffs, chaining him up.

Sherlock unties the boy, picking him up. “We good?”

I nod, pulling the guy to his feet and forcing him to walk with me to the ladder and climb up.

Sherlock follows me up, shutting the door and adjusting the boy on his hip. I push the guy forward, dragging him out to the police car with a cop still in it. I tell him he’s the one who held the kid hostage and to search him for weapons before shoving him in the back, shutting the door.

Sherlock walks out with the boy still in his arms, stopping at my side. “Alright, that was irritating. They didn’t notice a _trapdoor_? Idiots.”

The boy smiles shyly. “Mommy built it so it wouldn’t be found.”

Sherlock glances at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “She said she had to, I dunno. My name’s Archie.”

Sherlock gives him a once-over. “Are you alright?”

Archie gives him a small smile. “I think so. Where’s Blackbeard?”

A border collie comes running out, circling Sherlock’s feet and barking.

Archie’s eyes light up. “Blackbeard! Hey, boy!”

The dog’s tail wags and he jumps on Sherlock, licking Archie’s fingers. Archie giggles, petting him and kissing his nose. Sherlock, to my surprise, seems totally unphased. He strokes the dog with his free hand, a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.

The police come flooding out and the media stations flood forward. “How’d you get him out?”

“Is he alright?”

The policeman Sherlock pointed the trapdoor out to just points to us. “Ask them.”

The police take off and they flood over to us.

Sherlock raises a hand for quiet. “Hush, I can’t answer a thousand questions at once.”

There’s a silence broken only by passing cars and Sherlock runs a hand absently over Blackbeard. “There was a trail only a black light could pick up leading to a trapdoor. Went down and there was a wall that had just recently been sealed and broke it down. Then John shot his hand and the kidnapper dropped his gun, and he cuffed him and brought him out to the police car. We got him untied and out of there.”

Archie smiles shyly. “I’m okay, I think. He didn’t hurt me.”

One of the reporters asks, “I thought you were dead, Sherlock?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Only an idiot would believe that. I did jump but I had a plan and it worked. And what better way to return than to solve a case? “

Archie kisses his dog’s nose and relaxes into Sherlock. “I’m lucky he came back when he did, the guy pointed a gun at me. I don’t think the safety was on, either. A .34 caliber pistol, right, Sherlock?”

Sherlock smiles faintly at him. “Yes.”

Archie grins, dropping his head on Sherlock’s shoulder.

The media seems to realize their time is up when Sherlock takes my hand and begins to walk towards the house. Blackbeard bounds after us, tail wagging. He begins to lead the way and Sherlock, frowning, follows.

The dog bounds into a nursery, licking the baby girl in the crib. She _gaga_ s and Sherlock’s eyes widen. He scoops her up, handing her to me. I let the dog lead the way the rest of the way.

Luckily Archie is asleep. A woman and a man—judging by the pictures on the fridge, his parents—lie, dead, on the floor. Sherlock checks for a pulse and shakes his head. “Nope. Explains where Blackbeard was, though. Protecting the little girl.”

Blackbeard wags his tail, nuzzling Sherlock’s hand and sitting down, ears cocked.

Sherlock grins, stroking his head. “Good boy.”

He barks, chasing his tail in a circle.

Sherlock chuckles. “We’ll need to adopt out the little girl, we don’t have the time to give her the attention she deserves. Archie’s at least old enough to join us at crime scenes. But with their parents gone, they’ll both need a place to stay.”

I nod slowly. “So Archie’s with us and the little girl gets her own home? And then once she’s all grown, she meets her older brother?”

“Pretty much,” Sherlock agrees, sighing. “We’ll need to get them to the morgue. What do we do with the kids?”

I shrug. “Well, there’s still a chance Lestrade can find the girl a home. And Archie...he can stay with Lestrade until we’re done here and then we can take him home.”

Sherlock nods in agreeance. “Okay. Come on.”

We make our way quickly back to the police station and Lestrade looks up as we enter.

His mouth opens. “Solving crimes already?”

I hand him the little girl. “Their parents died. Watch over them for a while, we’ll be back....just, you know. If they wake up and see their dead parents...not the best idea. We’ll get them to the morgue and be back. Got it?”

He nods. “Alright.”

The girl hiccups and Lestrade hugs her lightly, smiling.

Sherlock sets Archie down on a chair. “Just watch over him. I have something to do with Mycroft real quick about them. You know, no orphanages or anything.”

Lestrade nods. “I’ll take the girl. She’s adorable.”

“We’re taking Archie,” I tell him, smiling faintly. “The boy. You can keep her, I suppose.”

Sherlock shrugs. “I can certainly work it out with my brother.”

“I thought he occupied a minor position in the British government?”

Sherlock scoffs. “He _is_ the British government, when he’s not busy being the foreign office, the CIA, the secret service, or anything else.”

Lestrade blinks. “Oh.”

Sherlock shrugs. “He’s got enough connections to get adoption papers. No problem. We’ll be back.”

We sweep out together, heading straight back to the crime scene. Sherlock scoops up the father and I lift the mother, carrying them out to the too-late ambulance.

The media rushes back over. “Who are they?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “The dog Archie was calling for saved a life—his little sister’s. But his parents didn’t survive, clearly. I’m already going to Parliament or Buckingham Palace to work out a home for the two kids.”

He sweeps off, ignoring the calls after him.

I grin. “No ‘my brother Mycroft’?”

He shakes his head. “He’d kill me if the general public knew that, they’d target him.”

I shrug. “Whatever.”

Sherlock sweeps into the building, falling silent. The Diognese Club.

I fall silent, following him to the door at the back. He knocks and it swings open.

We rush inside and Sherlock closes the door. “Mycroft.”

“Brother dear, sit.”

Mycroft looks up. “I’ve been expecting you. What do you want to discuss?”

Sherlock slips his fingers through mine. “A case I’ve been working on. The parents died, there’s a baby girl and a young boy. I already have places for both, Lestrade offered to take the girl and we’ve agreed to take the boy. But we don’t have the papers to make it official.”

Mycroft pulls two papers out of his pack. “Here.”

Sherlock quickly fills out our form, handing me the pen to sign. I sign it and Sherlock hands it back. “There.”

“Archie? Hm. Interesting name. The girl have a name?”

Sherlock shakes his head. “We don’t know. She can’t tell us, can she now?”

Mycroft rolls his eyes. “Just tell him to write the name he’s going to call her, then. And return within half an hour, I don’t have all day. I’ll enter yours into the system.”

Sherlock nods and we rush back out, diving into the office.

Sherlock hands the paper to Lestrade. “Fill this out. He said put whatever name you’ll be calling her, as we don’t know her name. Once you’re done, it goes back to him and it’ll be in the system. You’ll officially be her father.”

Lestrade nods, filling it out quickly and writing ‘Abbegayle ‘Abbey’ Rose Lestrade’ for her name.

Sherlock accepts it once he’s done, zipping back off to hand it to Mycroft.

Mycroft slides it into his bag, standing. “Alright, it’s done. Go off and do whatever you’re going to do now.”

Sherlock slows his pace this time, making it easier on me. “John?”

“Yeah?”

Sherlock chuckles. “You realize we’re both his fathers now?”

I grin. “We gonna get married to make it official or something?”

Sherlock blushes scarlet and smiles back. “I never said _that_.”

I shrug. “Seems like the thing to do. And you were clearly thinking it.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

He slips into the office, closing the door behind him and glancing at the still-sleeping Archie. “It’s official.”

Lestrade grins, bouncing the girl on his knee. “Good.”

She hiccups, giggling and tugging on his hair. “Da-da. Daddy.”

Lestrade’s smile widens. “Hey, Abbey.”

Abbey curls up in his lap, slipping back to sleep.

Lestrade glances up at Sherlock. “Thank you.”

Sherlock pauses, recognizing the genuine tone. “Of course.”

Sherlock scoops Archie up, balancing him back on his hip. “John, would you mind going out for a second?”

I grin. “Sure, whatever.”

I slip out, shutting the door behind me and waiting.


	9. Fathers (Sherlock's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock being cute. Sherlock asks Lestrade where he can get a ring (to propose to John with, of course).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.
> 
> (This is what I have so far, still going. Mystrade is getting closer.)
> 
> Let me know what you think so far! Wasn't going to publish but...why not? XD

I chuckle. “You realize we’re _both_ his fathers now?”

John grins. “We gonna get married to make it official or something?”

Heat floods my cheeks as I smile back. “I never said _that_.”

John shrugs casually. “Seems like the thing to do. And you were clearly thinking it.”

I roll my eyes, covering up my relief. “Whatever.”

I slip into the office, closing the door behind us and glancing at the still-sleeping Archie. “It’s official.”

Lestrade grins, bouncing the girl on his knee. “Good.”

She hiccups, giggling and tugging on his hair. “Da-da. Daddy.”

Lestrade’s smile widens. “Hey, Abbey.”

Abbey curls up in his lap, slipping back to sleep.

Lestrade glances up at me. “Thank you.”

I pause, the genuine tone rippling through me. _Now isn’t the time for smart responses._ “Of course.”

I scoop Archie up, balancing him back on my hip. “John, would you mind going out for a second?”

John grins knowingly. “Sure, whatever.”

John slips out, shutting the door behind himself and waiting patiently.

Lestrade frowns. “Something’s different. You two’re standing closer than ever. What’s up?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course we are. I died—or he thought I did—and we’re still getting through that. And he did kinda...well, he saw me fall apart but he didn’t judge like everyone else.”

Lestrade chuckles. “Most people _don’t_ judge, Sherlock.”

I fidget. “Not in my experience.”

His eyes widen. “ _Oh._ ”

I move forward, lowering my voice. “Look, John’s the one who brought it up in the first place, but...he was suggesting we get married. I’ve been kind of hoping for him to bring it up, and now that he has...well, do you know where I can get a ring?”

I let the mask slip, tentative hope and a shy demeanor making themselves known.

Lestrade’s eyes widen and his mouth opens. “Um, yeah. I proposed to my wife, ‘course I do.”

He pauses. “I went to Goldfinger Jewellery, they’ve got everything from diamonds to simple gold bands.”

I nod, adjusting my grip on Archie. “Don’t tell John I asked, he’ll figure it out later. He’s not the most brilliant but he’s still smart enough to keep up with me.”

Lestrade chuckles. “Of course. Go on, then.”

I slip out, closing the door behind me.

John offers me a small smile, taking my free hand in his. “Ready to go home yet?”

I shrug casually. “If you are.”

John rolls his eyes. “Come on, then.”


	10. Golden (John's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock proposes, everyone approves. Won't say anything else. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV.
> 
> Sherlock finally pops the question. :) Very first scene of Mystrade!

Sherlock sets Archie down in my room. I’ve already moved in with Sherlock, and that leaves my room open for our son. _Strange thought, our son. Hm. I like it. Us, as a thing._

Sherlock pops back out, flopping down next to me. “Really long day.”

I fall against him. “But perfect in the end. Our son, our house. You know, we’re kind of a thing now.”

“I noticed,” Sherlock agrees, hand in his pocket.

I tilt my head. “What was so important you had to detour from home?”

Sherlock blushes scarlet, glancing at me. “Nothing.”

I grin. “When you say nothing like that, it means _something_. Come on, what is it?”

Sherlock shakes his head. “Not yet. Patience, John, you’ll find out eventually.”

I nudge him. “Why not now?”

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “Everything has a perfect moment, does it not?”

I shake my head. “Now you’re confusing me. What the hell are you talking about?”

Sherlock shrugs. “Like I said, not now.”

Lestrade pops up the stairs, settling down in my chair. “What’s so important?”

Sherlock shakes his head. “Just a little longer. You’ll see.”

He winks at Lestrade and his eyes light up with understanding. “Oh! You want witnesses, don’t you?”

Sherlock just nods, refusing to respond in words.

Mrs. Hudson comes up, leaning against the wall. “He’s here, Sherlock.”

Mycroft settles down in Sherlock’s chair, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t have all day.”

Sherlock finally stirs. “I know. But I wanted witnesses. And you three are the only ones—other than John—that I want to know beforehand. You’ll understand what I mean in time.”

I cross my arms. “Witnesses for what?”

“This.” Sherlock slides off the couch, finally lifting his hand out of his pocket. In it, a small black box.

_Oh._ I feel my mouth drop open and my eyes widen in surprise. Mrs. Hudson’s eyes widen, Mycroft’s mouth opens in genuine surprise, and Lestrade just smiles.

Sherlock settles on one knee, opening the box. My eyes alight on a beautiful gold band, with lettering on the inside: _Love forever and nothing in our way._

Sherlock almost seems to steel himself before he asks tentatively, “John?”

I shake myself silently, lifting my gaze to his. “Yeah?”

I’m impressed that my voice doesn’t waver. Sherlock continues quietly, “Marry me?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the words settle on me. _Yes, of course._

I finally manage to untie my tongue. “Yes, _of course_ , yes.”

I slide off the couch, wrapping my arms around him. He melts in the touch, a smile lighting up his face.

_Priceless,_ I can’t help but think as his guides the band out and onto my finger with shaking fingers.

We rise to our feet together and a stunned Mycroft is sitting, frozen, in his chair. Lestrade grins, offering his congratulations. Mrs. Hudson teases, “You always said you weren’t a couple, and here you are. A couple, together. Oh, I always knew this day would come. Congrats, both of you.”

I grin, taking Sherlock’s hand in mine. “We weren’t, at first. That was the first day I met him. But we grew together over time. Things change, people change.”

Mycroft shakes himself, rising to his feet. “John, remember what I said before?”

I can’t keep the grin off my face at that. “Yep. I said ‘I barely met him yesterday’ and you said ‘and since, you’ve moved in with him and now you’re solving crimes together. I do expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?’. How am I supposed to forget that?”

Mycroft raises an eyebrow. “Well, it’s later than I expected but I always knew it was bound to happen. Good catch, little brother.”

Sherlock offers Mycroft a shy smile, squeezing my hand.

There’s a pause before Mycroft drops a business card in Lestrade’s hand and sweeps out.


	11. Fiancé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John said yes. XD Of course he did. Minor Mystrade here, and cute Johnlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV.
> 
> John calls Sherlock adorable. :D
> 
> Same song, still looking for comments. :) Same old, same old.

Lestrade stares at the card in surprise. “Sherlock, what’s it mean?”

I shrug, glancing at the note scrawled on it in my brother’s loopy handwriting: _Text me._ “Not sure. Could mean a number of things, knowing him. Don’t worry about it, but don’t ignore it either. Could be anything from a promotion to just plain curiosity.”

Lestrade shakes his head. “Whatever. See you boys later.”

He sweeps out and Mrs. Hudson makes her way downstairs shortly after.

John grins, sliding an arm around me. “Witnesses. Makes more sense now.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “I’d rather not have to tell them personally, it’s easier to just have them here anyway. And having witnesses is a plus.”

John chuckles. “I don’t care. You’re adorable, that’s what matters. Come on, it’s late and we’re both exhausted.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

John flips the lights off and leads the way into our room. _Our room. It was mine and now it’s ours. I like that, it’s nice. Mycroft said don’t get involved and look at me: I’m more involved than ever._

He shuts the door behind us and I drop my coat on its hanger, spinning my tux shirt off and watching it arch and land perfectly in the chair. John reaches forward, undoing the buttons and sliding my shirt off carefully, lifting it off the cuts and tossing it into the chair.

He drops his clothes in the other chair while I work off my pants and slide, clad only in boxers, under the sheets.

John slides in next to me, curling against me and murmuring, “I love you, Sherlock.”

I wrap my arms around him. “I love you, too, John.”

There’s a silence before John chuckles, “Guess what? You’re my fiancé now and vice versa.”

I grin. “And _mine_ becomes _ours_. My room, our room. My life, our lives.”

John grins, finishing, “ _Our_ son.”

I close my eyes. “Exactly.”

John breathes a deep, tired sigh. “I’ve never felt better. I love you so much.”

I tighten my grip. “Good, because I love you right back.”

John chuckles quietly, his breathing easing into that of a sleeper.

I allow my mouth to turn up as my heart soars. _My John. He said yes!_

I drop to sleep easily, heart lighter than it’s been in a long time.


End file.
